


New York's Hottest New Museum Is...

by CaptainMikeShelbyMiller



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Drug Use, M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMikeShelbyMiller/pseuds/CaptainMikeShelbyMiller
Summary: Stefon hosts Weekend Update. Seth Meyers is his entirely too vanilla city correspondent, whose suggestions are less 'pop up rave' and more 'weekend with Nana'. Stefon takes it upon himself to educate Seth Meyers on all the happenings in the seedy underbelly of New York- for the good of the segment, of course.





	1. Captaint America

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Weekend Update with Stefon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134077) by [thrysce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrysce/pseuds/thrysce). 



> Please forgive me for throwing this in amongst all the great fics this ship has. I'm very sorry. But I saw the prompt someone posted on Tumblr, then I read the fic thrysce wrote, and decided to butcher it with my version. Also I know nothing about New York, or tv shows, anything this fic is about, and I did minimal research beforehand. Again, apologies.

After the tragic death of their last city correspondent- don't try to smoke car battery acid, kiddos,  _ especially _ while the car is still running- Stefon had assumed it would take a minute for the show heads to fill the position. It was hard, finding someone who was knowledgeable about all the craziest clubs, but sober enough to appear on television once a week. Stefon managed well enough, but he couldn't exactly be his own city correspondent, though he'd offered, multiple times. So when Saturday night rolls around and the city correspondent portion of the show hasn't been cut or replaced, he's not sure what to expect- probably an intern filling in or something.   
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------   
  
"Now that we've got the boring stuff out of the way, let's talk fun! The 4th of July is coming up, and in New York, that means partying the night away with fireworks, little American flags, and sloppy blowjobs from some guy dressed like Martha Washington in the back of a Whole Foods. Here to share his top spots to celebrate America Day is our new city correspondent, Seth Meyers!" The audience applauds,  and the most unlikely man enters from the right and takes a seat. Between the segment topic and the name 'Seth', he'd been expecting someone straight from the catalogs of Twink Warehouse. Definitely not the completely normal looking, 40 something, probably dry cleans his clothes guy wearing a suit and fucking tie, waving awkwardly at an equally baffled audience. He's cute, in that 'I was a hot mess in the 80s/90s but now I'm respectable and you would never guess I had ever worn leather pants' kind of way. Stefon doesn't know how Seth Meyers even heard about this job, or how he'd gotten it, but the last time he'd seen someone look so out of place was when he woke up after blacking out at a party in the middle of Sunday church service.    
  
"Hello, Seth Meyers, welcome to Weekend Update. Are you a... big fan of the show?" He couldn't picture Seth Meyers staying up past 9pm, let alone watching a fake news show that aired at 12am. Seth Meyers smiles- an impossibly wide thing, the bastard- and nods his head.   
  
"Yeah, I've probably seen every episode, I think you're- I think it's great!" the slip up could easily be faked, but the pink that appears on Seth Meyers' ears is telling. It matches the pink of his dumb wide mouth, and Stefon thinks he'll enjoy whatever miscommunication that led to this while it lasts.    
  
"Well, we're happy to have you, Seth Meyers." His voice is breathy when he speaks, propping his chin up on his hands and maintaining intense eye contact with the other man, who rather than appearing uncomfortable, looks away with a cajoling "Stefon..." before looking down at the neat little stack of notecards he brought with him- Stefon can see precise penmanship and color coding, what a nerd.    
  
"So I didn't want to do anything too crazy for my first time, but I think these are some pretty fun ways to celebrate Independence Day in New York!" Stefon still can't imagine Seth Meyers in a bar, much less a seedy pop up club. "I know 4th of July is more of a nighttime holiday, but if you want to get the fun started earlier, starting at 7am in Central Park you can watch a live reenactment of the signing of the Declaration! 100% family friendly, and the founding fathers will even sign autographs after the show, where a Ben Franklin impersonator will read the Declaration!"    
  
Stefon is going to strangle the casting department for this. Poor Seth is smiling that dumb smile of his, and the audience is apparently just as weak to it as Stefon is, because after a beat they clap politely.    
  
"That's a hard pass from me, Seth Meyers. What about something a little more... Not Safe For Work? Something for people who aren't afraid to wake up the next night and not know what country they're in, you know? 4th of July is all about fireworks, how about somewhere I can dance with patriotic pornstar Captaint America, and possibly be arrested for arson and public indecency. What've you got like that on your little list?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Seth looks like a deer in the headlights. He flips through his note cards before shaking his head.   
  
"I don't think there are any places like that on anyone's list, Stefon." The audience's immediate laughter had the overdressed man raising his hands defensively, smaller but no less stupid smile in place. "Or maybe there are, I guess, wow!" At this point, Stefon is 87% certain that Seth Meyers was only hired to drive him crazy.   
  
"Seth Meyers, you ignorant virgin-" Seth Meyers chokes back an incredulous laugh, two fingers pressed against his lips in an attempt to regain composure.   
  
" _ Hey _ ! I'm not a virg-"   
  
"-there's so much you need to learn about life in New York. I don't know what the gay scientists who built you have taught you, but there's so much more to the city then museums, and concerts, and wacky street performers!" He wants to keep messing with Seth Meyers, but the segment is almost over, and another segment still needs to set up, and thus, they have to wrap it up. "I'm taking you out tonight, Seth Meyers, do you own anything that's not a suit? ...Never mind, I already know you don't." Seth is giving him that look from before, a ridiculous and all too soft thing to come from a guy he met four minutes ago on live television.    
  
"It's already past midnight, won't everywhere be closed?" Stefon gives Seth a long look, then shares an equally long look with the audience. Still looking adorably confused, Seth's next cue card has him exiting to the right.   
  
"Seth Meyers, everybody! For Weekend Update, I'm Stefon, goodnight!" As the lead out music plays, Stefon flicks through the notecards Seth had left behind. Each one neatly details some party, or barbeque, or art gallery. Two of the events he'd planned to discuss explicitly said 'no alcohol'! 

"Seth Meyers, I'm starting to think you might  _ actually _ be a city correspondent."


	2. Slice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stefon takes Seth out on the Town!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and... not good. Let's all just power through because the next chapter is actually coming along nicely!

After the show ended, and everyone was free to go, Stefon searched for his wayward city correspondent. He found Seth waiting for the elevator, headphones in, tapping away on his phone. He reaches a hand out and pokes him in the arm, startling a squeak from Seth. 

  
"Did you forget about our plans, Seth Meyers?" The other man has removed his headphones, and Stefon thinks the tinny song he hears is... Kelly Clarkson? Before Seth pauses his music. "Booooooooof doesn't open for another hour, but Slice is better for newbies, anyways." The elevator pings and the doors slid open, and Stefon loops an arm around Seth, pulling him into the elevator with him.    
  
"Wait, what? I thought that was just a joke! I'm  _ really _ not much of a partier, Stefon..." To his credit, Seth Meyers doesn't sound half as terrified as most whole milk people would at a night out with Stefon. The half baffled, half amused smile he's worn all night is still present, and he's fiddling with the fingers of his right hand, like they were itching for the #2 pencil he'd toyed with during the entire segment. Stefon likes it, how despite his buttoned down appearance, Seth Meyers maybe isn't quite as put together as he seems.   
  
"Ah, ah, no take backsies, Seth Meyers. I'm taking you out tonight, I promise you won't like,  _ die _ or anything." The elevator pings once more and they're in the lobby, Stefon still guiding Seth. "You might wake up with a tattoo, or a nose ring, or syphilis, but it'll be  _ sooo _ worth it,  I swear!" He doesn't look very comforted by Stefon's words, but lets him lead the way regardless, expression wary but anticipatory.    
  
As Stefon leads them down an alley, he realizes that what had started out as his arm around Seth has evolved into his hand holding Seth's, somehow, as they walked. Seth doesn't even seem to notice, too busy eyeing every trashcan like a gang of germfs is going to pop out from behind one and stab him, and Stefon smiles. "You'll be fine, Seth Meyers, relax." Blue eyes shoot him an incredulous look, eyebrows raised.   
  
"I think you and I have different definitions of 'fine' Stefon. I haven't been to a club since college, and I doubt the clubs I went to were anything like this place!" Stefon waved off Seth’s worries; he  _ knew _ his little nerd had a fun side. It was just buried under a decade and a half of repression and hair gel. The club entrance finally comes into view, or at least, the line to get in does.    
  
"This place has everything a normal club does, Seth. Twinks, gypsies, grown men in wedding dresses, a cat from a bodega, puppets in disguise-"    
  
"Wait, what are puppets in disguise?"   
  
"Seth Meyers, I thought you said you'd been to clubs before! It's that thing of when..." as they talk he leads them right past the huge line and to the front door, where the bouncer (a stray ferret in a tiny rubber bondage suit) waves them in. The sound of deep, pounding bass reaches them the moment the door opens, and Seth's hand tightens around his for a second.    
  
Stefon pulls him aside to the 'coat check' (no one ever got their coats back, that was just fact at this point) and has Seth take off his suit jacket, tossing the offensively bland article of clothing somewhere behind him. Then he reaches out and fusses over his hair, fluffing it up and breaking it free from its prison of hair gel. He can tell by how his hair lays without the gel holding it down that if it were just a tad longer, it'd curl. Seth is a nervous giggler, but he let's Stefon do as he pleases, until Seth Meyers looks less like an accountant and more... well, he still sticks out like a sore thumb, but he at least looks less stiff.    
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------   
  
He pulls an awestruck Seth towards the bar, figuring a little (or a lot) alcohol wouldn't hurt. Stefon orders two of the night's specials, and five minutes later two obnoxiously violet drinks are set in front of them. Stefon takes a sip of his, knowing how deceivingly strong the bartender/monkey therapist liked to make her drinks. Seth, on the other hand, downs his in one go, which Stefon had  _ not _ expected.    
  
"You're just full of surprises, Seth Meyers." He says, watching him grimace at the artificial bubblegum flavor.    
  
"You know you don't have to say my whole name every time, Stefon. So now what do we do?" Seth questions with that little smile that makes Stefon's heart pound, running a finger around the rim of his glass. His hands are always busy, Stefon doesn't know if it's a consistent thing, or just nerves, but he hasn't seen Seth's hands be still since he came on set. They're nice hands, long fingered and proportionate. and they'd fit so nicely in his own, his mind unhelpfully points out. He ignores the thing about Seth's name, because at this point he's not gonna stop, but at his question, Stefon smirks.   
  
"Now we have some fun, Seth Meyers."


	3. Seth Doesn't Freak Out And That Freaks Stefon Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever because I basically had to rewrite the whole thing whoops. I cannot write club scenes, I learned, and so I cheated and timeskipped right over it like a biiiiiiitch! Not 100% happy with it, but let me know what you think! Also I wrote it on mobile so if there are any terrible spelling or grammar errors pls point them out!

The sun pouring through sheer curtains rouses Stefon from the uncharacteristically deep sleep he'd been in, blinking away the fog and raising a hand to his forehead, pushing back sleep mussed hair. A cursory glance around the room tells him he's not at home; the square footage alone is enough of a clue. It's not the kind of apartment he typically find himself in after a one night stand, either. The walls are a warm grey, there are framed pictures on the walls, and the bedding smells fresh, like it was not only washed recently, but washed regularly. Somehow Stefon had ended up in the bedroom of a functioning human being, and it was a tad  _ unsettling _ .    
  
He looks over his shoulder just as the comforter covered lump beside him shifts, and holy shit, if Stefon had sex with Seth Meyers and didn't even remember it, he was going to stab himself. Seth is still fast asleep, recovering from what Stefon would consider a relatively tame evening. All that is visible from Seth's cocoon is mussed hair and a little bit of his neck, face buried in a pillow. Stefon fights down the strong urge to press a kiss or two to the pale skin, because he respects boundaries, and most people would probably be freaked out if they woke up to someone they met just the night before kissing random parts of their body. Waking up to said stranger in his bed was probably going to be enough of a shock for Seth as it was. Stefon is almost completely sure that they hadn't done anything, because he's still wearing his pants from the night before, along with what looks like Seth's button down- it's tight across his shoulders and the sleeves are about an inch or so too short. Why he's wearing Seth's shirt he has no clue, and he has  _ no _ idea where his Ed Hardy shirt has disappeared to.    
  
" **_Guh_ ** , what the hell..." rasps Seth, jarring Stefon from his train of thought. "My mouth tastes like poison..." he groans, sitting up and cradling his head in his hands. His hair sticks up in ridiculous disarray, and there is a streak of iridescent glitter that follows the line of his jaw. And Stefon no longer has to wonder what happened to his shirt. Because stupid, vanilla, only known him for half a day Seth Meyers is wearing it. It's too big for him (to be fair, it is also too large for Stefon- he likes sweater paws, okay?) and Stefon hastily commits the image to memory. He really wishes he could remember what the hell happened last night. Seth doesn't seem to notice Stefon at first, too focused on the no doubt powerful hangover ravaging his body, and Stefon isn't sure how to make his presence known without scaring the shit out of the other man.    
  
"Hi, I'm Stefon." Is what he goes with for some ungodly reason, and as if independent from his body, his hand goes out for a handshake?? Moments like this Stefon almost thought maybe David had a point about his drug habits... Seth, to his credit, takes it mostly in stride.    
  
"I  _ know _ who you are." He replies, sleep slurred voice exasperated, but in that nice Seth way, not the way people usually speak to him when he does something weird. "What time is it?" Which is. Decidedly less freaking out then Stefon had anticipated? He fishes in his pocket for his phone, which miraculously hasn't died, and checks the time.    
  
"Wow, it's only 9:00! I can't remember the last time I woke up that early." He has seven texts from Shy, a missed call from his mother, and a bazillion notifications about some update he'll never download. Seth slowly emerges from his blanket cocoon, and Stefon watches him realize what he is wearing. And maybe it's a little bit mean, but he lets Seth jump to conclusions a few seconds longer than necessary, because he really likes how his mouth opens and closes almost involuntarily, and his ears turn the same shade of pink they had the night before.    
  
"Yeah. I don't know what this is all about, Seth Meyers," he gestures between them, "I was hoping you remembered? I'm like 95% sure your virginity is intact, but I don't let just anyone steal my clothes..." Not to mention he still can't imagine a situation in which switching shirts would make sense? The blank look on Seth's face says that he doesn't have a clue either, though, so it seems the mystery will remain unsolved for now.   
  
"I don't remember anything after that black jello shot... I think... God, I need tylenol... how are you so??" He waves a hand vaguely towards Stefon, "Not a wreck?" Stefon watches Seth stand, slightly unsteadily, and shuffle towards the bathroom, presumably in search of the aforementioned tylenol. Stefon gives a cynical little smirk. He was nothing but a wreck; only a wreck could do what he did on a daily basis and still manage to function day to day.    
  
"So you're  **not** freaking out at all about this? I'm impressed, Seth Meyers." The tap water runs for a moment, before Seth appears in the doorway, face wet and eyes a little more alert.    
  
"I'll probably freak out in a few hours, don't be too impressed! Right now I need coffee, and all I have in the kitchen is tea because a friend said I  _ 'shouldn't drink so much coffee.'" _ He grabs a sweater off the hook on the back of the door and pulls it on (Stefon can't tell if he is miffed that he doesn't get to watch Seth take off his shirt, or pleased that Seth is still wearing _his_ shirt). "Did you want to get coffee? Unless you have somewhere to be, obviously! I don't really know what the etiquette here is..."  he laughs a little, softly, from nerves or the headache or both, and there go those twitchy fingers again, and Stefon wonders if they'd go still and calm if he held them again like last night.    
  
"Well  _ normally _ I'd be sneaking my way out the front door or down the fire escape, and you would be pretending to still be asleep to avoid the awkward Morning After." But Seth had proved again and again to be the exception to the rule; Stefon had tried to share his lifestyle with more vanilla people, and most of the time they got scared and left, or he got bored and stuffed them in a cab. "But coffee sounds nice, too."   
  
He doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that he likes Seth wearing his shirt, so he doesn't ask to borrow a larger one. Instead he rolls up the sleeves, before slipping out of the bed and following Seth out of his apartment and on to the ever busy New York streets.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to keep updated about this fic and any upcoming projects I have (I also make fanvids, playlists, and aesthetics), follow me on tumblr at http://www.createdbygayscientists.tumblr.com !!


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